Bleeding Me Prologue
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: No one ever wants to see a demon. And those that say they do shouldn't be allowed out in the world. Rated M for Violence and Language.
1. Chapter 1

**Bleeding Me**

**Author's Note 1:** _Bleeding Me_ is a revamp (ha ha) of _Nobody Wants to Be Lonely_,which I do not plan on continuing. I will, however, keep it posted on this site.  
**Author's Note 2:** This portion of the story (The Prologue) was originally intended to be about 2-3 pages. I put pen to paper and 21 pages later... The Prologue is posted in three parts simply because I didn't think anyone could sit through one LONG page of it. Hopefully, more of this story will be posted... As soon as I write it... ^__^  
**Warning:** Contains male/male interactions with an underage character (he's fifteen, but I had to put it in there)

* * *

**Prologue  
**

"_There's a demon in the basement of the church!"_

That's what Frankie had told Kevin earlier that afternoon. While the two of them were in the boys' bathroom during sixth period History class. Sharing a pack of cigarettes Frankie had "borrowed" from his older brother.

Having reached the peak of cynicism at the ripe age of fifteen, Kevin's immediate response was, "Bullshit."

Kevin knew about demons. His whole family was a bunch of goddamn demons. Demons dressed in their Sunday's best.

"It's true!" Frankie insisted.

He was always the excitable sort, Kevin thought. A constant diet of sugar and caffeine saw to that. Frankie's non-existent lips puckered around his cigarette, reminding Kevin of a Chihuahua. Eyes bulging out, brow hair plastered to his head with two heaping handfuls of gel, and the never-ending yapping. However, he was Kevin's only reliable source for cigarettes, so he had to work with what he had.

Blowing smoke out of the window, Frankie continued, "Jonas saw it himself, Nash. Wrapped in chains and everything!"

Kevin took a long drag, drawing the smoke into his lungs. At the rate he was going, he'd probably be dead by his thirtieth birthday. Not that he had anything wonderful planned in the meantime. His To Do list consisted of one thing: Getting the Hell Out. He was bidding his time until his eighteenth birthday. "Jonas sniffs White-Out, Frankie. Not exactly my idea of a reliable source."

"But I heard things, Nash." Frankie always referred to Kevin by his last name. Five months his senior and already pushing the six-foot mark, Frankie insisted on showing Kevin respect. Whether the older boy wanted it or not. "Awful moaning and groaning. Coming from the basement. Up through the vents."

"Probably somebody gettin' lucky." Kevin flicked his cigarette butt into the toilet. "The only demons are the ones we create."

"Wow, Nash… That's deep." Mimicking Kevin's actions, Frankie disposed of his cigarette and flushed the toilet.

With his back turned, he couldn't see Kevin rolling his eyes. There were worse things out there than imaginary demons. Much worse. Everyone knew Francis K. Winslow was as gullible as the day was long. He swallowed any story you fed him, right down to the dumbest detail. If Kevin told him there were lizards in the sewers that could climb up the pipes, into people's toilets, and bite their balls off when they sat down, Frankie would never shit again. The boy needed to toughen up or he'd never survive high school.

Frankie's mouth kept right on running as the bell sounded to end the period. "Me and Jonas are sneaking down there tonight. I wanna see it for myself."

_No, you don't,_ thought Kevin. _You wanna sit at home and watch the Flintstones or the Jetsons or something just as childish. But you gotta go or else you'll be called a chicken shit. Which you are._

Instead, what he said was, "I'll come, too." Not because he didn't believe in demons. A small part of him hoped human beings weren't to blame for all the evil in the world. A supernatural force had to be behind some of it. But the odds of those hypocrites stumbling across an honest-to-goodness demon were highly unlikely. Most likely all Frankie had heard was some drunk sleeping off a bender in the basement.

That was how he'd wound up standing outside the church on a Wednesday afternoon with Frankie the Chihuahua and Jonas, the boy with a constant case of the sniffles.

Jonas was seventeen years old and always about two shaky steps from rehab. He would snort anything he could get his hands on. Magic marker, spray paint, cold tablets. He'd do a line of pixie stick dust if he thought it could get him high.

Jonas came from a long line of users. His father was a not-so-secret alcoholic, just like his father before him. And Jonas' mother was on just about every pharmaceutical-grade narcotic known to man. Even on her "good" days, she couldn't name all of her children.

"I saw 'em being him… _it_… down myself," sniffed Jonas. His nose was as red as a fire engine. "Huge fucking thing. With hands so big, it could crush cantaloupes!"

_I'll give you fifteen bucks to spell "cantaloupe"_, thought Kevin. Jonas had burned through so many brain cells, the school board was probably promoting him through the grades just so they could be rid of him by his eighteenth birthday. Thus turning him into someone else's problem.

Frankie shivered. Whether it was from the late afternoon chill or from fright, Kevin couldn't tell. "Did it have claws?" he asked, meekly. No doubt his imagination was working overtime, filling in the gaps of Jonas' description.

"Didn't see no claws," Jonas replied. "But they had it wrapped up in chains! And smoke was coming off his skin where the metal touched. Like steam from a kettle."

It was hard for Kevin to believe that any metal would hurt a demon. They danced around in hellfire. And, if he believed every word his parents told him – which he didn't – demons tended to rip human flesh right off the bone. Wrapping it in chains should be like wrapping a T-Rex in toilet paper. It would rip the crap off in under a minute before ripping their throats out.

"Unless it was silver," Kevin thought aloud.

"What?" the other boys asked, in unison. They had been looking up at the church like it was about to sprout legs and chase them all the way home.

Kevin completed his thought. "Silver hurts werewolves. In the movies, at least."

"This ain't a movie, Kevin," chided Jonas. "And that ain't no werewolf."

Jonas may have been older than Kevin, but all his vices had left him thin as a rake and pale as the moon. It wouldn't take much for Kevin to break his nose.

Kevin sneered, "I know this isn't a movie. I'm not a mental case. But I figured, logically speaking, that werewolves and demons were kinda similar. Both damned or cursed or whatever. That's assuming logic even has a say in the matter."

"What I don't get," Frankie stated, chewing his thumbnail, "is why they're keeping him around. Why not just destroy it?"

_Because they're adults and they think they know everything even when they can't tell a schoolhouse from an outhouse._

Kevin turned to Frankie. "Do you _really_ think they know how to get rid of it?"

"Can't they just… send it back?"

"It's not like they got it at Sears!" scoffed Kevin.

Jonas started up the church steps. "You two knuckle-heads wanna see it or not? We haven't got all day. They said it wakes up once the sun goes down."

Frankie hustled after him with Kevin following at a more sedate pace. Despite what Jonas had said, there was no point rushing things. Best to think things through instead of running in like a couple of idiots with their dicks swinging in the breeze.

The silence amplified every noise they made. The hinges of the church doors squealed in protest as they snuck inside. The patter of their sneaker-clad feet along the corridor rebounded against the walls and ceiling. Announcing their presence as if they were the three Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The fourth having to stay at home to work on his algebra. Frankie knocked over a stand of pamphlets. The resulting boom nearly scared the piss out of him.

"Damn it, Frankie," Jonas whispered. "You wanna get us fucking killed?" He smacked Frankie upside the head. "You wanna get us fucking _murdered_?!"

Clutching his head, Frankie whimpered enough "I'm sorry"s to get him forgiven for every bad thing he had ever done. Including acts he had merely thought about, but never went through with.

Kevin reluctantly rose to Frankie's defense. "You said this so-called demon doesn't wake up until sun down. Why are you making such a fuss? We still got another hour til then."

"Guards, dumbass," Jonas replied. "Don't you think they got people guarding it? Use your brain for once!"

_I couldn't use your brain to wash my ass_, Kevin thought. _There's not enough left to make a loufa_.

Fed up, Kevin growled, "What 'they'? We haven't seen anyone since we got here."

"Just because we haven't seen them doesn't mean they aren't here."

"Jonas, your bread ain't baked," Kevin said. "All this talk about 'they' and 'them' makes you sound like a damn lunatic. Maybe we should call the funny farm and have you picked up!"

Jonas balled his hands into fits. "I know what I saw, man. I ain't no fuckin' loony."

Brave but stupid Frankie placed himself between the two boys. "Come on, guys! Don't do this. Not here, anyway. Not in the church."

Seeing Frankie more shaken up than usual, they called a truce.

At the end of the hall was a door. Jonas motioned for them to stay silent as they approached it.

Too full of nervous energy, Frankie squeaked, "It's locked, isn't it? They wouldn't just leave the door open, would they?"

_Again with the "they"_, thought Kevin.

Irritated, Jonas grumbled, "I swiped the key from the office and put a piece of tape on the door so it wouldn't lock itself once I closed it."

"You stole from the church?" gasped Frankie.

"Cool it, dude," Kevin said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It wasn't from the collection plate. Don't pop a blood vessel."

Jonas turned on them. "You two need to get your shit together 'cause this is the real deal."

As promised, the door was unlocked. The stairway leading down to the basement didn't look any different to Kevin. He thought it would somehow have become warped by the demon's malevolent influence. The steps were a light maple. Not charred, not blackened. The white walls remained unmarred. Brightly-colored flyers advertised rummage sales and a reminder to set the clocks back for daylight savings. All completely normal.

Frankie followed Jonas down, with Kevin bringing up the rear. Boxes of various sizes were stacked all around. A carousel of folding chairs took up one whole side of the basement. No foul odor permeated the place. Just dust and mildew and other ordinary underground smells. A spider had spun its web in one of the corners of the ceiling. Completely oblivious to the denizen of Hell occupying the nearby space.

Kevin was about to call Jonas out on his lunacy again when they came to a door marked Boiler Room.

"Here," whispered Jonas.

Kevin was incredulous. "The boiler room?"

"Is it locked?" Frankie squeaked. The tone of his voice implied he hoped it was.

Jonas sneered, "Why would they lock it? The thing can't get out." He placed his ear against the door, listening. After a few seconds, he pulled away. "Don't hear anybody." He placed his hand on the doorknob.

Frankie slapped his hand over Jonas', preventing him from turning the knob. "Jonas, I…" He sputtered to a stop. He was lost for words. His round eyes landed on Kevin, pleading for assistance. For an intervention.

_No one really wants to see a demon,_ thought Kevin. _And anyone that says otherwise shouldn't be allowed out in the world._

"You wait here," Kevin ordered Frankie, much to the smaller boy's relief. "Guard our backs and let us know if anybody's coming."

Thrilled with having a purpose that did not involve coming face-to-face with a demon, Frankie nodded. "Will do, Nash. I'll knock three times if I hear voices or footsteps or anything."

With Frankie stationed at their rear, Jonas and Kevin entered the boiler room.

The first thing Kevin noticed were the boards nailed over the small windows near the ceiling. Closing the door behind themselves would plunge them into absolute darkness.

"There's a light switch," Jonas pointed out. "On the wall, by the door."

Grateful, Kevin flipped the switch. "_Fuck_…"

"What?" cried Frankie from the open doorway. "What?"

A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, flickering at first before streaming its lonely little light on the man-shaped thing in the middle of the room. At least, Kevin thought it was a man. He'd never seen a person so massive. Even at rest, the muscles in the man's arms were flexed, large and well-defined. Jonas hadn't been kidding about the size of its hands. If it managed to get those things around a person's throat, it would be a quick ending. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred bucks.

Jonas smiled smugly. "Still think I'm a loony?"

Cautiously, Kevin approached the seated figure. Just as Jonas had described, chains wrapped around its torso and legs. The flesh appeared red and sore in the places it made contact with the metal. The flimsiness of the chains puzzled Kevin. Each link was about two inches long and couldn't have been more than a quarter of an inch thick. A super-strong demon should have been able to easily break free. Kevin used a thicker chain to tie up his bike.

Fingers trembling, Kevin snatched away the cloth sack covering its head. A wave of dark curls fell free, covering its face.

"No horns," he murmured.

"What?" whispered Jonas.

Kevin inched closer, first examining the face, then the head. "It doesn't have any horns." Aside from a few scorch marks on the right cheek, its face was unblemished. The hair on its hair matched its neatly trimmed beard and mustache. A color much closer to bronze than brown. Its hair hung down past its shoulders.

Jonas spat into the corner. "What difference does it make of its got horns or not? Ain't got a tail either, as far as I can tell."

"What self-respecting demon doesn't have horns?" Kevin inquired, mainly to himself.

For a second, he thought he spied a mischievous smirk flash across its lips. He immediately dismissed the notion, attributing the false sighting to a trick of the light.

It wasn't ugly, Kevin concluded. No sores. No warts. No boils. He'd seen rubber Halloween masks more terrifying. Lacking horns or any other visible signs of its wicked nature, it could easily pass for a human. Then again, he knew plenty of humans with rotten insides. His fingers graced the scorch marks on its cheek, no doubt caused by contact with the chains. The skin was so pale, it seemed to glow in the light bulbs meager light. And cold, he noted. Like it was sucking the warmth of his fingers.

Kevin's eyes traveled down to its mouth, all pink and full and perhaps still smirking. A sudden desire flared within him, setting his heart to pounding. A desire to touch those lips with his own. To be in intimate contact with something that wore a human skin, but apparently was not of his world. Nothing sexual, he assured himself. Just an experiment. Just to find out if it would burn.

Three knocks sounded on the door. The signal that the coast was no longer clear.

"Let's make tracks!" hissed Jonas. He squeezed out of the room before the door was fully open.

Kevin's feet remained fixed to the spot. Whatever it was, he decided, he couldn't leave it. If it was evil, then so be it. Couldn't be worse than the evil already out there.

Tugging at the chains with all his might, he was disappointed to find they only gave an inch or two. Two padlocks held them in place. What he needed was a bolt-cutter or a hacksaw.

"Frankie!" Kevin called. Frantic, his eyes searched the sparse room, finding nothing useful. "You still out there, Frankie?"

The response he got was a blow to the back of his head, knocking Kevin off his feet. His face met the floor with a teeth-jarring smack.


	2. Chapter 2

"Boy, I don't know what you're doing down here," a voice boomed, adding to the ringing in Kevin's ears. "But I'm gonna make you wish you were somewhere else."

Kevin knew that voice just as well as he knew that fist. Leave it to his father to find him in a basement with a demon. The man was constantly threatening to take Kevin out of the world. At that moment, he sounded mad enough to make good on his oath.

Lord knew there was no love lost between the two of them. Most likely because there had been no love to be found to begin with. Malcolm Nash believed the greatest gift he could instill in his son was fear and respect. If Kevin didn't respect his father, he feared for himself.

His mother was no better. Not only did she back her husband entirely – as a good wife should, she always said – Alma Nash had a mean streak of her own. Treating every beating Kevin got as an affront against her. Like his bad behavior was a direct reflection of her childrearing. Making her look like the worst mother in the world. And what kind of son would wish that on his mother? She believed Kevin was put on the Earth as a test from God. A test of her strength, of her virtue. His every wicked deed was a black mark on her soul and endangered her passage into Heaven. She was not about to let some selfish child impede her path to glory.

As expected Alma Nash accompanied her husband. "I have to practically drag this boy to church on Sunday," she sighed. "And the _one time_ he shouldn't be here…"

Like he had done it on purpose. Just to rain on her parade.

Raising his head, Kevin saw his parents were joined by two others. One was James Pruitt, his principal. None of the students wanted to get sent to his office. If you caused trouble, there were only two options: Detention or The Paddle. Kevin was sure Mr. Pruitt got some sort of thrill out of spanking his students. The one time Frankie had gotten caught cutting class, he'd been sent to Mr. Pruitt and chose the Paddle over telling his parents he'd received detention. Simply to avoid them taking away his television privileges. Afterwards, Frankie swore up and down that the principal had had a boner by the time he had finished. And Kevin believed him.

The sight of Henry Rogers, the final person in the room, truly shocked Kevin. Director of the church choir, Mr. Henry – as he preferred being called seeing as Mr. Rogers was already taken – was the kindest adult Kevin knew. And one of the few that he trusted. As much as a teenager was capable of trusting anyone over the age of thirty. Rain or shine, Mr. Henry could be found wearing his bowler hat. Kevin felt you could trust a man wearing a bowler hat. Never was an unkind word uttered by Mr. Henry, either to anyone or about anyone. He gave out the best Halloween candy and once had TP'd his own tree just for the hell of it. To find that bowler-wearing, candy-giving _choir director_ among a bunch of demon hunters…

"Kevin, get out of here," ordered Mr. Henry. "This is no place for children."

"I'm not a child." It was Kevin's automatic response when he felt his age being held against him.

Malcolm grabbed him by his hair, hauling him to his feet. "You think you're a man, now?" His hands forcefully yanked Kevin's blond hair. The hair he was always demanding Kevin get cut so he wouldn't look like a girlie-boy, "You grown enough to get into man's business?"

Kevin knew better than to fight back. Even with his growth spurt, he wasn't strong enough to take on his father. In the end, he'd wind up in the emergency room, telling some cock and bull story to the doctors. That fear didn't keep his gums from flapping, though. Kevin would mouth off as long as he had a tongue.

"Is this is man's business," said Kevin, ignoring the ache of his abused scalp, "then why is Mom here?"

As predicted, he got a backhand for his trouble. His bottom lip split open and blood trickled down his chin.

Malcolm tossed his son aside, watching with cold, unconcerned eyes as his only son crumpled onto the floor. "I don't know why I keep you around."

Kevin smiled through the pain. Yet another thing he was used to. "Because Child Protective Services frowns on drowning your children."

A swift kick to the ribs knocked the air out of him. Silencing him. For the moment.

The rattle of chains drew their attention. Sleeping Beauty had awakened, looking far from cheerful. It turned its snarling head in their direction. The pupils of its eyes were as red as the blood drying on Kevin's lips. Teeth bared, it thrashed against its restraints.

The first thought through Kevin's head was that it had fangs. While it lacked the stereotypical horns, that pair of extremely dangerous-looking fangs gnashing together put it back into the demon category.

Brandishing a Bible, Mr. Henry approached that human-looking thing. "This," he announced, "is God's business."

Kevin was unsure if the director was talking to him or the other-worldly inhabitant. Watching, transfixed, he wondered if the Book would repel the beast, make it fearful, or make it angry. When it spoke – _if_ it spoke – what effect would those abominable sounds have on their human ears?

The closer Mr. Henry got, the quieter it grew. With the Bible an inch from its face, it became as still and calm as a statue. The red eyes studied the man as well as the book he held. It did not shrink away from his presence. Quite the contrary. It leaned forward and spat on the Bible.

"Mine's bigger," it laughed. "And better."

The strong, vibrant timbre of its voice crowded the room. It had a life of its own. It was a completely physical experience. A weight pressing down on their heads, their bodies. Maybe even their souls. It was not a sound one would not naturally associate with happiness. It was a cruel, twisted thing. Used to make its captors feel weak and insignificant.

Amazingly, Kevin felt fine. More than fine. Phenomenal. In fact, he wanted to laugh along with the creature. He saw the foolishness of their plan. Did they actually expect to defeat that thing? To send it back to its retched home? They'd have better luck buying it a bus ticket.

Mr. Henry struck it with the Bible. Kevin was sure the embossed cross on the front would leave a searing mark on its face.

The laughter continued, filled with sinister joy. "You bore me," it said. "You tiny man and your tiny penis. Not good for much, are you? Except maybe eating?"

Again, Mr. Henry lashed out with his weapon. Despite his bravado, Kevin could see the man's knees shaking. It was one thing to defile the Good Book, he figured, but something quite different to insult a man's… manhood.

The demon sighed wearily. "You little people and your little lives. Such a waste." Quick as the snap of a cobra's jaws, its red eyes locked on Kevin. "But they boy delights me. Release me. Leave him as my plaything and I will let you live."

Principal Pruitt stepped forward. "We are going to send you back from when you came."

"And where would that be?" It did not take its eyes off of Kevin.

"Hell," responded Kevin's father.

The creature's smile was beautiful in its cruelty. "Then you are mistaken. I come not from Hell but from Heaven."

"Heaven?" repeated Mrs. Nash.

"I am an angel sent to bring you to your maker. Release me so that my duty may be dispatched and I can send you to your God."

Malcolm shouted, "Blasphemy! You speak blasphemy, you spawn of a whore!"

Calmly, it shrugged its massive shoulders. The smile did not falter. "I speak the truth. I am an angel."

Awed to come across someone – some_thing_, he corrected himself – so blatantly unafraid of his father, Kevin spoke up. "What's your name, angel?"

Amusement flashed in its eyes. "I am Kane."

"You killed your brother!" gasped Alma.

Kane raised his bronze eyebrows. "I did no such thing. My brother lives as I live. Unchain me, my good woman, and I will show you."

Shoulders defiantly squared, she proclaimed, "Liar! You are a demon of the worst sort and we will not allow your influence to persist!"

"And you're a flat-chested bitch with a pussy made of sand paper," Kane crowed, delighted by the sport of insult-hurling. "But that won't keep me from fucking you before I kill you."

Malcolm rushed forward in defense of his wife. Grabbing a length of chain from the corner, he wrapped it around Kane's neck. A strangled cry escaped Kane's throat, followed by a pitiful gurgling as the metal burned his flesh.

"Where are your nasty words now?" Malcolm growled. Teeth clenched together, he sounded just as beastly as Kane. "I oughta shove this silver down your throat!"

Kevin was on his feet before he had time to consider the consequences of his actions. "Stop that!" he hollered, hurdling onto Kane's lap. "You're hurting him! Just let him alone!" Straddling Kane's thighs, Kevin attempted to pry the chain away from his throat. He managed to squeeze his fingers between the skin and metal, giving Kane an inch of breathing room. "Why do you have to hurt people?" Kevin shouted at his father. "Why are you so damn evil?"

"That _thing_ is not 'people', Kevin," explained Mr. Henry. "That creature is the evil one. Not your daddy."

Mr. Pruitt gripped Kevin around the waist and tried to tear him away from Kane. "It must be destroyed!" he roared in Kevin's ear. "Evil cannot be allowed to endure."

Kevin held fast to the chain. Locking his ankles around the chair, he argued, "Who are you to talk about evil? Who are you to judge?"

Little by little, inch by inch, the chain slid through Malcolm's slick palms. "I am your father," said Malcolm. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. "And you will respect me."

Kevin kept his grip, continued to pull, taking in the slack. "You might be my father, but that doesn't stop me from hating you."

There was enough slack in the chain for Kane to bring his head forward. Red eyes gleaming with malicious glee, he studied Kevin. The boy could feel his gaze sweeping across his face. His injured lips tingled. Blood rushed to his cheeks. Under Kane's intense stare, blood quickly rushed to other places. On a good day, Kevin could barely keep his body in check. The room smelt of blood, sweat, and Kane's unique, unearthly aroma. It took all of Kevin's willpower not to rub himself against Kane's body.

Kane beamed at Kevin, apparently pleased with his examination. All other activity in the room faded into the background as, captivated, Kevin leaned closer.

"I will keep you, my golden boy," Kane declared. "I will make you mine forever."

He surged forward, mouth crushing against Kevin's. Teeth pierced already tender flesh. Kane's tongue lapped at the wound, skillfully drawing the blood into his mouth as well as a soft groan from Kevin's throat. It had been days since he'd last fed and, with the damage done by the silver, he was in desperate need of replenishment. The warm trickle of the boy's luscious blood brought Kane's hunger roaring to the surface. If he had his way, he would cast off his chains and sink his fangs into that sweet curve of his neck. To feel the flesh give way beneath his powerful jaws… To swallow each pulsating gush until there was no more to be had… As much as it angered him to admit, he was not yet at full strength. The small offering from the boy's lips would have to do.

At first, the bitter copper taste turned Kevin's stomach. It reminded him of the vicious punishments delivered by his father. Reminded him how weak and powerless, how utterly defenseless he truly was. No one had ever come to his rescue. But he had willfully, bravely run to the aid of Kane. A monster. Because Kane did not claim to be anything other than what he was. Kane's intent was clear. Pain and death were his only goals. He had no honorable intentions, made no self-righteous posturing. He was wicked and depraved and, if given the opportunity, would kill Kevin without hesitation.

He was locking lips with Death itself. And he was strangely comfortable with that.

Pain flashed through Kevin's brain as he was grabbed by the hair and hauled off of Kane's mouth. Malcolm chose that moment to release the chain in favor of socking his son in the eye. Dazed, Kevin's legs lost their grip and he slid off of Kane's lap. Squinting through the pain, he witnessed his mother dragging him to the other side of the room.

"You hateful, _disgusting_ boy!" Alma ranted, delivering a swift kick to Kevin's back. "I can't believe I gave birth to you!"

Kevin wrapped his hand around her ankle as she was about to deal another blow. He managed to pull her down onto the floor beside him. Screaming words no good, Christian woman should ever use, she struggled out of his grasp. She clipped the side of his head with her foot before trying to crawl away.

Flushing the commandment of honoring his parents down the drain, he grabbed her ankle again and bit down. Hard. Blood dribbled into his mouth, coating his tongue. The taste of it tested his gag reflexes. There was no joy, no rapture in the experience. It was not at all the way it had been with Kane. However, his survival instincts told him to cling to his mother, despite her shrieks and howls. At that moment, she sounded less human than the being chained to the chair.

If he managed to make it out of that room alive, he would never be able to return home.

"Demon child!" she screamed. Her free foot flew past his face. "Filthy, _tainted_ child! Tainted by the beast!"

Perhaps Kane's kiss had given him a thirst for blood.

Abandoning his post as Kane's tormentor, Malcolm entered the scuffle. A merciless kick to Kevin's gut forced him to release his mother's ankle. The kicks continued, driving the air from Kevin's lungs as he willed himself not to vomit. It hurt too much to even cry. Curling into a ball, he prayed for an end to his father's rage.

Seeing his son reduced to the fetal position only increased Malcolm's anger. "Get up, you little degenerate! If you're grown enough to attack your mother, you should be man enough to fight me!"

Mr. Henry pleaded with Kevin's father. "Leave the boy alone, Malcolm. Right now, he's lost and confused. After we've dispatched this monstrosity…" He waved the Bible in Kane's direction. "We can lead him back to the Light."

His words fell on deaf ears. There was no compassion left in Malcolm Nash. "You saw what he did. His actions speak for themselves. There's no redemption for him."

Cautious, Kevin uncurled himself. "If there's no chance of redemption for me," he groaned, "then you are so fucked."

"That damn mouth!" Malcolm brought his fist down on Kevin's ear, driving the boy's head into the cement floor. "If I hear one more word from you, you will reap it!"

Kevin remained silent. There wasn't an inch of him that didn't hurt.

"Henry's right," agreed Principal Pruitt. "Leave the kid for later. We've got bigger fish to fry. The others should be here by now."

Sneering in disgust, Malcolm helped his wife to her feet. The bite on her ankle had stopped bleeding. However, it throbbed painfully with every step she took. She leaned on his shoulder, throwing her wayward son a withering glance as she hobbled out of the room.

Mr. Pruitt retrieved the chain Malcolm had used to wrap around Kane's neck. Dangling in front of Kane's face, he taunted, "Things like you don't belong in this world. I'll see that you're put in your proper place."

"That's funny," smirked Kane. "I was about to tell you the same thing."

Swearing under his breath, he beckoned to Mr. Henry. "Come one, Henry. We gotta prepare."

Mr. Henry knelt over Kevin. "I'm sorry it came to this," he said. "I'll try to talk to your father. See if I can calm him down a bit."

Despite all that had happened to him, all that he had seen and heard, Kevin couldn't find it in him to be mad at the guy. Maybe because he always pictured him wearing that bowler hat. "Don't waste your breath."


	3. Chapter 3

The receding footsteps told Kevin he was alone. Alone, save for Kane. Gritting his teeth against the pounding in his head, he turned onto his stomach. And instantly regretted it. It was like the previous pain he'd experienced was just an opening act for the blinding agony blossoming in his stomach. Breathing was an unwanted chore, leaving Kevin wishing he could simply slip into the welcome embrace of unconsciousness. However, he knew the adults would be back. More likely sooner than later. He had to get out of there. Even if he had no place else to go. On unsteady limbs, he crawled towards the open door.

"You're going to die," remarked Kane. "I can smell it."

"We all die sometime." Kevin had a suspicion his end would come sooner than he'd previously guessed. Long before the lung cancer could take hold.

"Not all of us, lovely. I've lived a _long_ time."

"They want you dead." If he had thought breathing was unpleasant, speaking opened up a whole new minefield. It took most of Kevin's brain power just to keep moving.

"Plenty of people want me dead," Kane replied, indifferently. "I'd be offended if they didn't. To hell with them. They're so insignificant, it's almost funny. To see them running around, full of self-importance. I remember when this country had no name."

"I'd love to hear more," Kevin groaned. "But I'm about to pass out."

A figure stood in the doorway. Kevin froze. Too weary to raise his head, he faintly muttered, "What the hell now?"

"Jesus Christ Almighty, Nash!" squealed Frankie. "What happened to you?"

_He was no Batman_, thought Kevin. _But he would have to do._

"I had a tea party with Alice and the Mad Hatter," Kevin sighed. "Things got a little out of hand."

Frankie rushed to his side and tried to help him to his feet. Unfortunately, the more he helped, the more it hurt, But the time he reached a semi-vertical position, his vision was blurry and he was sweating like he'd run ten miles.

"He won't last," Kane said. "It's a pity. I really liked him. Let me go and I could save him."

"You're a demon," whined Frankie. The high-pitched sound spiked through Kevin's head like a nail shot from a nail gun. "You'll kill us both."

Kane shook his head. "No, I won't. I can be very helpful when I put my mind to it. Honest."

"You're a demon," Frankie repeated. "We can't trust you."

Sensing he was not going to get the peaceful death he had hoped for, Kevin whispered to Frankie, "Go find something to cut through the padlocks."

The order made the smaller boy's eyes grow wide and his voice to shoot up an octave. "Nash, are you mental? That thing will… will… flay us alive or something just as terrible!"

Time was not on Kevin's side. Plus, he was running out of patience. "If you do it, we might die. If you don't, I _will_ die. No offense, but I'm willing to make the gamble."

Frankie hesitated. Torn between his best friend and fear for his own life. When all was said and done, Frankie wasn't what one would consider brave. The most daring thing he'd ever done was not waiting a full thirty minutes after eating before getting into the swimming pool. He didn't play sports or talk-back to grown ups. He only took up smoking to get in good with Nash, who treated him a lot better than most of the other kids. Nash never tripped him in the hall or knocked his books out of his hand. Nash was quality people, a rare commodity. He couldn't let Nash down. He couldn't let him _die_!

Nervously, Frankie licked his lips. "I saw a tool cabinet by the chair rack. Hopefully, it's not locked. You gonna be okay if I leave you for a minute?"

"Probably not," replied Kevin. "But check it anyway. Just prop me up against the wall."

Reluctantly, Frankie left him.

Curious, Kane asked, "What are the odds of him finding anything?"

"Slim," said Kevin. "But he's the only shot we have. As depressing as that sounds."

"Why are you doing this?"

"You said you would save me. I'm taking you up on your offer."

"And if I'm lying?"

"You're not," Kevin stated. "I am your golden boy, after all."

Kane nodded. "You are also mortal. Even with my help, your flame will be extinguished in time."

"Then buy me some more time."

"And you'll just let me go? Just like that?"

"I sure as hell wouldn't know what to do with you."

That delightfully devious smirk was back on Kane's lips. "Oh, but I have a few good suggestions on what I could do with you."

Frankie rushed back into the room, brandishing a pair of bolt-cutters above his head as if they were Excalibur, freshly pulled from the stone. "I found it!"

"Nicely done," cheered Kane. "I'd clap if I were able."

Frankie turned to Kevin. "You sure about this?"

"Nope."

Frankie nodded. "Me, neither."

Trembling, Frankie approached Kane. Moving slowly enough as to not appear threatening, but with enough speed to get the job done before he could talk himself out of it. Once loosened, Frankie unwrapped the chains, peeling the metal from Kane's flesh. From the look on the monster's face, it was not a pleasant experience. Before their eyes, his injured skin healed. Kane was whole again.

Standing, Kane kicked the chair aside. It smashed into the wall, exploding into fragments. Drawing himself to his full height, he towered over the boys. Frankie backed away. Kevin began to regret his decision.

"We shouldn't have done this," whimpered Frankie. "You never make deals with a demon."

Kane's voice, like his presence, filled the room. "I am no demon," he declared. "I am vampire."

"No offense," Frankie gulped. "But that don't make me feel much better."

In the blink of an eye, Kane stood in front of Kevin. The boy's head barely met the vampire's chest. "Are you afraid?"

Not wanting to appear rattled, Kevin put on a cool air. Even though his bladder was sending out emergency evacuation signals. "Just for my clarification… Regardless of whether you let me live or not, you _are_ going to kill me parents, aren't you?"

Kane's smile was as dreadful as it was magnificent. "Absolutely."

"Then, no," replied Kevin. "I'm not afraid."

Bringing his arm to his mouth, Kane bit into his own wrist. Breaking the skin. Releasing his blood. He presented his bloody wrist to Kevin. "Drink," he commanded. "My blood is strong and it will heal you."

"Is it poison?"

"I wish to save you, lovely. Not kill you. Now, drink before the wound closes."

After a moment's hesitation, Kevin's mouth latched onto the weeping wounds. The time for revulsion had come and gone. He could not afford himself such a luxury. Kane was offering a life-saving elixir and he proceeded to gulp greedily. Suckling even as Kane tried to pull his arm away.

Combing his fingers through Kevin's hair, Kane murmured, "Enough, my lovely. That is all you need."

Kevin stared longingly as blood slowly seeped from the quickly closing bites. "But I want more." It was not in his nature to complain. He viewed it as a complete waste of energy. It just felt so _good_ being connected to Kane. Like Kane was wired into him. He'd never felt anything like it. He did not want it to end. All the pain evaporated out of his body. In its place was a feeling of invisibility. Like he could take on anyone or anything. It was a bit addicting.

Kane's finger's wrapped around Kevin's chin, raising it so as to look the boy in the eyes. "As long as it is within my power, I will grant you your heart's desire. Starting with the destruction of the sycophants who sired you."

Frankie stepped into Kane's path. Emboldened by the realization that his life was going to be spared, he hoped to save the lives of others. "There may be kids up there," he said. "They don't deserve…"

Kane interrupted him. "You would rather I make them orphans rather than have them join their parents in the hereafter?"

"I'm just saying… It's a terrible way to go. Let us get them out. Do whatever you want with the grown-ups. Have mercy."

Frankie's pleas impressed Kevin. Not so much as a wobble entered his voice. He didn't have a mean-spirited bone in his body. Always made sure to say Please and Thank You. Aside from the cigarettes, the kid led as clean a life as a fifteen-year-old could. Yet there he stood, all five-foot-nothing of him. Bargaining for the lives of kids who would put thumb tacks in the chairs of kids like Frankie. The adults could not me saved. That much was obvious. They had started this whole mess in the first place. Never once considering the repercussions if things did not go their way.

"How can we get them away from their parents?" asked Kevin. "They'll know something's up as soon as they see us. I'm not even supposed to be able to walk."

Kane strode out of the boiler room, entering the basement proper. "Leave it to me," he announced. "I will clear a path for you both and send the youngsters out to you. Whatever happens to them after that is none of my concern."

With frightening speed, Kane crossed the space, went up the stairs, and was out of sight.

"I don't like this," said Frankie. He tossed the bolt-cutter into the corner.

Kevin countered, "And I don't like quadratic equations. But I get through it. Just like we'll get through this."

"No one's ever had to worry about death by quadratic equations."

Their escape from the church was just as harried as their entrance. The fear of being caught, however, was exponentially worse than before. Especially if they had the misfortune to run into Kevin's parents. Luck was with them. The few people they encountered didn't even look their way. As if the two boys weren't there. They made it to the front doors of the church unscathed. Throwing open the door, they raced down the steps like Satan's hellhounds were nipping at their heels.

Since their underground adventure, night had fallen. Stars twinkled overhead as clouds drifted across the face of the moon. Everything was quiet. Deathly quiet.

"Do you think he'll do it?" Frankie whispered, reluctant to disturb the calm. "Let them go, I mean."

"He let us go."

"Yeah… For now… What's to stop him coming after us?"

"Why would he?"

"We know about him! We know his secret!" Frankie became more agitated as the seconds ticked by.

"And who would we tell? Who would believe us?"

"I just… don't think we should lay all our faith in a demon."

"Vampire," Kevin corrected.

"Not much of a difference in my book."

Frankie grabbed Kevin's arm before he could start an argument. At the top of the church steps stood a pair of children, one boy and the other a girl. Neither could have been over the age of seven. Starting down the steps, more children began to exit the church. In all, fourteen kids crowded around Frankie and Kevin.

"Where we goin?" one little girl asked, twirling a pigtail around her little finger.

"The man said you was gonna get us ice cream" another girl interjected.

A boy about nine years old said, "He told me pizza. I like pizza. Momma never lets me have pizza and I want it."

Kevin looked over the crowd of children. From their general muttering, he gathered they had each been promised something different. Whatever it took to get them out of the church.

"He's inventive," he mumbled. "I'll give him that."

Frankie took a consensus. All told, the children had been promised pizza, cheeseburgers, French fries, and a variety of desserts.

"Where are we gonna get that kind of money?" Frankie lamented. He always got an A+ in lamentation.

"I've got money," a girl piped up. She held up a fistful of dollars. "From my Mommy's purse. The man said it was okay. He was real nice."

Nodding in agreement, the rest of them pulled bills and change out of their pockets. All, apparently, stolen.

Frankie nudged Kevin in the ribs. "Still say he's not a demon?"

The church door, which had been standing open since the children's dismissal, slammed shut.

Gulping loudly, Frankie stuttered, "That was… the wind… Right?"

Kevin clapped his hands together. "All of you! Follow us! We'll get everything taken care of."

"Even ice cream?" inquired the pig-tailed girl.

"Whatever your heart desires," Kevin beamed. "Now, come on." He and Frankie hustled them off of the property. "And no looking back."


End file.
